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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24572923">Not Another Day Without You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gray_autumn_sky/pseuds/gray_autumn_sky'>gray_autumn_sky</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:14:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,415</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24572923</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gray_autumn_sky/pseuds/gray_autumn_sky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A slight canon divergence set during the A Malcolm episode. </p><p>After Claire's return, neither she nor Jamie can fall asleep, worried that their long-awaited reunion will have been a dream. So, instead, they stay up all night talking.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Not Another Day Without You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Aren't you tired?" Claire asks, her voice hushed and groggy as her fingers absently tracing circles against his bare chest, her touch so feathery light, it's almost like he's imagining it. "The sun will be coming up soon."</p><p>"Aye," he murmurs, his eyes shifting momentarily to the still-black sky outside of the window, then black to Claire, pressing a soft kiss to her hair. "It will be."</p><p>He's exhausted beyond measure, but he won't sleep. Not yet. Not until he can be certain.</p><p>There were so many times he dreamt of this, so many times when he imagined it, so many times he believed it to be true—and then when his fluttered open, the space beside him was cold and Claire was still gone.</p><p>He dreamt of waking up with her beside him at Lallybroch, the sun pouring in through the windows and the smell of breakfast wafting up from the kitchen downstairs. Other times, he dreamt of finding her in the crowded, bustling streets of Edinburgh, his heart racing as he called out her name and nearly beating out of his chest when she turned to face him; and sometimes, she'd never gone at all. But every time, it ended the same way, and for those first few waking minutes of the day, the ache in his chest was unbearable as he relived the loss of her all over again.</p><p>Jamie's arm tightens around her and she nuzzles against him, her cheek warm on his bare chest.</p><p>Momentarily, his eyes close. He hasn't felt this at ease in years—twenty years to be exact—and while everything between them feels so different, it's also comforting and familiar.</p><p>His eyes flutter open as Claire presses a kiss to his chest before rolling over and propping her head up with her hand—and when she smiles, he can't help but smile back.</p><p>Her blue eyes look so tired, but still glimmer with that same nervous excitement that settled in them the moment their eyes met in his print shop that afternoon. Leaning down, she presses another kiss to his chest, then looks back up at him. "This might seem silly," she begins, catching her lip between her teeth, "but I'm almost afraid to sleep."</p><p>Reaching out, he tucks a straying wild curl behind her ear, letting his fingers linger at her cheek as a low laugh rumbles from his chest. "It's not. I dinna want to sleep either."</p><p>"I used to have this dream," she begins, sighing as his hand falls away from her face. "I'd wake up and instead of being in Boston, I'd be here, in Scotland. I'd dream that I'd never gone through the stones just before Culloden, and… and then I'd wake up one morning to find that you'd returned to us."</p><p>"To you and Brianna—"</p><p>"Yes," she murmurs, a soft smile edging onto her lips. "I'd be standing at a window or brushing Bree's hair by the fireplace, and… and from the corner of my eye I'd see you from a distance, and I'd run to greet you. You'd sweep me up off of my feet and you'd spin me around and… and…" her voice trails off for a moment as she looks away, the wound of their years apart still fresh.</p><p>"And then what?"</p><p>"You'd kiss me."</p><p>"Aye," he murmurs, smirking and making her laugh. "I did."</p><p>"I was dizzy—dizzy with excitement and happiness, practically drunk with it by the time you set me down. And then we'd go inside and I'd introduce you to Brianna and—" Again her voice stops and his time, he feels her tense. "That was usually when I woke up."</p><p>Jamie swallows, pushing back the lump forming in his throat as he thinks of the daughter he's never met—the daughter whose name he's only just learned today and whose face he'd already memorized—the daughter who'd never know him as her father. "Well, this is no dream, Sassenach," he says, clearing his throat as he tries to sound convincing, wanting to convince himself as much as her.</p><p>"No... it isn't, is it?"</p><p>Dipping his head forward, he presses a kiss to the top of his head, breathing her in before she settles back against his chest, her head resting there as his fingers stroke her warm skin, twisting and twirling around her shoulder blades before effortlessly gliding to the small of her back before sliding up again—and for a moment, he thinks that might be it, that this might be the moment where their exhaustion gets the best of them.</p><p>And then, he thinks again of Brianna and all he's missed.</p><p>In his dreams, he experienced every milestone—her first tooth, first steps, first words, and even her first tantrum. In his dreams, he watched her grow from a wobbly toddler into a precocious little girl and then into a head-strong and independent woman.</p><p>Claire's told him that their daughter is like him—in both her looks and her temperament—and knowing that was like a balm, soothing the ache and making him feel as if, on some level, he'd been there with them.</p><p>"Will ye tell me more about her, Sassenach?" he asks, breaking the silence and waiting for her to look back up at him. "Will ye tell me about Brianna?"</p><p>"Of course," Claire says as she sits up, smiling as the blanket falls away from her. He makes no attempt not to stare, letting his eyes linger and appreciate her, and though it's not lost on him the way his gaze makes her cheeks flush, it's also not lost on him that she doesn't try to cover up.</p><p>Progress, he thinks. A stride toward normalcy between them, he hopes.</p><p>Jamie pulls himself up and reaches for the little pouch of photographs and shuffles through them all, smiling at each one before choosing. "Tell me about this one," he says, finally settling on the photograph of Brianna beaming as she holds up a line of fish.</p><p>"I thought you'd like this one," Claire tells him as she shifts herself up beside him. "She was so proud of herself that day."</p><p>"I ken I had no part in it, but… but I'm proud, too," he admits, stretching his arm around Claire as she settles herself beside him, almost instinctively cuddling into his side and resting her head against his shoulder. "She has yer smile, Sassenach. I canna get over it."</p><p>"She's the best of both of us."</p><p>Jamie nods and holds Claire a little tighter, wishing he could know their daughter.</p><p>"We, um… we rented this tiny little cottage on Martha's Vineyard one summer, and she loved it, she loved everything about it."</p><p>"I can tell that she did," Jamie says, holding out the picture. "I can tell just by her smile."</p><p>He listens as Claire describes every detail of the trip, telling him about the rustic cabin they'd stayed in and how thick the hot summer air had been. She tells him how they'd get up before the sun to hike along the trail that took them down to the coast and they'd spend their mornings picking up seashells and glass and racing barefoot through the wet sand.</p><p>Jamie closes his eyes—he can picture it all so easily as though he'd been there with them.</p><p>Then suddenly, he no longer sees himself with his family. Instead, he sees Frank.</p><p>"Afterward," she murmurs softly, turning her head to look up at him and keeping him grounded in the moment. "We'd catch our breakfast." Claire grins as she plucks the photograph from his fingers, holding it out in front of them both. "This was the first day Brianna caught breakfast all by herself."</p><p>"How old was she?"</p><p>"Almost fifteen."</p><p>He grins, too, again picturing himself there with them—what a proud moment that would've been for him.</p><p>His jaw tenses. It was certainly a proud moment, but not for him. "Did Frank teach her?"</p><p>Claire looks up at him and he watches as a grin tugs on to her lips and she shakes her head. "No. I did," she tells him. "I taught her like you taught me."</p><p>His smile comes instantly.</p><p>"You know," she says, pressing a kiss to his chest before cuddling closer. "There were a lot of things about that little cabin in the woods that reminded me of you."</p><p>His brows arch as he peers down at her, smiling as she smiles.</p><p>"Frank always turned in early and I'd stay up, sitting out by the fire."</p><p>"Did Brianna sit with you?" he asks, his eyes closing as he imagines them together—but once more, he finds himself seeing Frank coming out of the cabin to join his family, sitting beside Claire, his arm around her and her head resting on his shoulder as their daughter chatters on about her fish or whatever it was nearly-fifteen year old girls chattered on about in her time.</p><p>"Sometimes," Claire tells him, bringing him back into the present as a little laugh bubbles out of her and a smile pulls at the corners of her mouth, making him relax again. "Usually on the nights I'd let her make s'mores… so naturally, we had them often."</p><p>"I dinna ken what that is—" he stops, chuckling at the word he's not sure he could pronounce. "But it makes me happy that they make you smile."</p><p>"Maybe if I can scrounge up some marshmallows somewhere one day I'll make you one, because according to our daughter, I make the best ones she's ever had."</p><p>"Are they difficult to prepare?"</p><p>"No," Claire murmurs. "Not in the least, but she was five and I wasn't a very good cook."</p><p>Jamie laughs. "I think yer a fine cook."</p><p>"Years gone by have muddied your memories," Claire says, stifling a yawn as she rests her head back against his chest, and he holds on a bit tighter, once more thinking this might be it—that they're both at the point where they're willing to tempt fate and fall asleep. "But on the nights Bree didn't join me, I would… sit there by the fire, staring into the flame, and no matter what, my thoughts would always find you." She draws in a shaky breath that makes him pull her a bit closer. "And I'd imagine that Bree and I were with you and Fergus, that we were the family that we were always supposed to be."</p><p>"I had similar dreams," he says, his voice just more than a whisper as he pressed a kiss to her hair.</p><p>"Jamie," she murmurs. "Can I ask you something?"</p><p>"Anything."</p><p>"What really happened to Fergus' hand?" She tilts her head so that she can look at him. "I know what he told me, but… twenty years may have passed, but I can still tell when he's trying to protect me from something."</p><p>For a moment, he holds his breath. It's been so long since he thought about that day. An ache settles in his stomach as he remembers Fergus' tears and blood, the way he cried and burrowed his face into his chest to try and stifle it as they made their way back to Lallybroch; and then how days later, the shock and horror as he realized what the soldier had done to him, how his life would be forever changed by it.</p><p>"He was telling the truth when he said it was done at the hand of a redcoat," Jamie murmurs, swallowing hard as he reminds himself of that man Fergus has grown into and reminds himself that the spark that left his eye that day had returned. "But it wasna much of a fight."</p><p>"What happened?"</p><p>Drawing in a breath, he tells her—he tells her how the redcoats had searched for him after they'd realized he'd somehow managed not only to survive Culloden, but also managed to escape imprisonment. He tells her how he'd left Lallybroch to protect the family and how Fergus had begged to go with him, how he'd stayed nearby, visiting and helping with whatever he could, and he tells her how the redcoats never really believed Jenny nor Ian when they lied, insisting that they hadn't seen him in years.</p><p>Then quietly, he admits that what happened to Fergus was his fault and even now, he's ridden with guilt over it, ashamed that he let it happen.</p><p>Claire interjects, sitting up and looking him square in the eye as she insists that what happened couldn't have been his fault. But despite her steadfast assurance, she wasn't there and she can't know what really happened—and it's one of the few times that he's glad she wasn't there, glad that she went away and couldn't see what he'd done.</p><p>Jamie listens, but shakes his head—he won't argue it, but his mind won't be changed. He may not have taken that sword to Fergus' wrist, but he'd set it into motion. He'd made it happen.</p><p>"Jamie—"</p><p>"Every time I looked at him, I'd feel it—I'd feel that burning shame an' guilt—an' it haunted me."</p><p>"I'm so sorry—for both of you, I'm so sorry."</p><p>"It wasna long after that that I convinced Jenny to turn me in," he says, clearing his throat and remembering the strange sensation of relief that had come over him as the soldiers dragged him away and Jenny screamed out that she'd never forgive him—that might've been true, but at least she'd be safe, they'd all be safe. "I hated to go, Sassenach, but it was my penance and salvation."</p><p>Claire again tips her head up to look at him, but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she offers a sad little grin and a nod as she reaches out, caressing the back of her fingers over his cheek, bringing to him a comfort that only she could.</p><p>"Aye, but when I returned from Helwater—" He grins back at her and as he brightens, so does she. "Our boy grew into a man, and what a fine man he'd become."</p><p>"So, he stayed at Lallybroch—"</p><p>"Jenny and Ian raised him with their own, kept his spirit alive—"</p><p>"He still has that same mischievous flicker in his eyes," Claire says. "And that same sweetness."</p><p>"I'm proud of him—in spite of it all, I'm proud."</p><p>"As you should be," Claire says, lying her head back down against his chest and her fingers once more resume absently tracing circles on his skin. "I can't wait to get to know him again," she murmurs groggily. "In my head, he's still just a boy."</p><p>Jamie chuckles. "No' much has changed. He's still stubborn and gets himself in more trouble than he should, but—"</p><p>"And I wonder where he gets that from," she laughs softly as she interrupts. "He always wanted to be like you. It seems he succeeded."</p><p>"Aye, I suppose he did." Jamie pauses, remembering the years he spent away from Lallybroch, remembering the occasional letters he'd receive from Fergus at Helwater—letters he was certain Jenny forced him to write—and how his messy handwriting had matured as he learned once more to write. "He's a fighter, too, like you, Sassenach."</p><p>Claire presses a kiss to his chest.</p><p>"I wish I could 'ave sent him with ye," Jamie sighs. "I wish—"</p><p>"There were times I did, too," Claire admits. "I tried not to think about it because there was nothing I could do, and no way for me to ever find out, but I worried about what happened to him after we sent him away just before Culloden—"</p><p>"He'd 'ave tried to fight—"</p><p>"I know," Claire murmurs. "But I never knew if he made it to Lallybroch and sometimes, I'd… I'd think of him, alone and scared and—" Her voice halts as she draws in breath. "I felt guilty for leaving, for not even saying goodbye and—" She stops again, and this time, her voice doesn't return.</p><p>"He couldna have gone. I'd 'ave sent him if I could."</p><p>Claire nods, drawing in a deep breath. "But he was safe, and that's what matters."</p><p>"Jenny and Ian were good to him," he tells her, unable to stop his thoughts from drifting back to Bree and Frank, and how he willingly entrusted his wife and daughter to a man he'd never know to ensure their safety. "He was loved and that's what counts."</p><p>Once more, silence falls between them, his fingers stroking her back, as they lose themselves in thoughts of what might've been and what was, reminding themselves that the choices they made served a purpose and as painful as their separation was, it wasn't done in vain.</p><p>"He was good to her, then?"</p><p>"Hm?"</p><p>"Frank," Jamie says, trying to let his name roll off of his tongue without letting the bitterness seep into his voice. "Frank was good to Brianna?"</p><p>"He was," Claire says without hesitation—and though that should be reassuring to him, it's not, but he doubts anything would quell the jealousy he feels for Frank Randall. "He adored her."</p><p>"An' you? He was good to you, too?"</p><p>This time, Claire hesitates. "I told you," she murmurs. "I couldn't forget you."</p><p>"But that does no' mean—"</p><p>"I loved him, but it wasn't a passionate sort of love. It was…" Her voice trails off as she tilts her head to look at him as she searches for a word. "Platonic," she says at last. "What I felt for him was platonic, mostly."</p><p>"And how did he feel for you?"</p><p>"For a long time we tried to pretend it was the way it used to be between us, but we couldn't go back. I couldn't go back." She draws in a breath as her eyes fall to his chest and she watches the way her fingers move, and he can see that she's holding back. "We… were friends," she decides, looking back up. "We fought a lot, but we were bonded by our love for Brianna and…" Again her voice trails off. "And I made him an offer."</p><p>"An offer—"</p><p>"We had an open marriage."</p><p>"I dinna ken what that is," he murmurs. "But did it make ye happy?"</p><p>"I don't know," she admits. "It stopped the fighting for a while. He was happy because he found someone he could love who loved him back the way that he deserved, and—" Claire sighs as she looks back to him. "But it made me jealous."</p><p>"Jealous—"</p><p>"Though it wasn't perfect, Frank got to be with the woman he loved… and you were still gone, and no amount of time could make me forget you or make me miss you less." Momentarily, her eyes press closed and she shakes her head. Everything about her demeanor shows her guilt. "I offered him a divorce first, but he wouldn't agree to it. He was afraid I'd take Bree away from him, and then, in the end, he was the one who wanted a divorce and to take Bree away."</p><p>Jamie feels his jaw tighten as she looks away.</p><p>"He died that same night," she says, her eyes meeting his once more. "A couple of years later, I met her—I'd seen her once or twice, but we'd never really spoken—and she was still so angry. She was bitter that I didn't let him go, that they missed out on the life they should've lived, and… I don't think I've ever understood someone more than I understood her in that moment."</p><p>Jamie feels his jaw tightening as he considers what Claire's told him, and though he knows it's futile to curse a deadman, he finds himself hating Frank Randall more than he ever has. His feelings about Frank have always been complicated. At worst, his memory had felt like such an imposition, like an unwanted visitor he couldn't be rid of; and then, there were other times he envied him and the life he got to live with Claire. Jealousy burned in his heart as he thought of Frank sleeping beside his wife and holding his bairn in his arms—and yet, at the same time, for twenty years he'd felt he owed Frank a debt of gratitude.</p><p>But now, he wonders if that gratitude had been misplaced.</p><p>Frank had been gifted the second chance with Claire that Jamie had always yearned for, and he'd all but thrown it away.</p><p>Drawing in a breath, he bows his head to press a kiss to Claire's hair, trying in vain to push away thoughts of Frank Randall and instead focus on the fact that somehow, miraculously, his prayers had been answered and he did have another chance with Claire, another chance at the life they were meant to live with one another. But as he holds her, he finds it impossible not to think of the secret he's unwittingly kept from her, finding it impossible not to think of his own ill-fated second chance.</p><p>He tries not to let his thoughts linger too long there, once more willing away thoughts of Laogharie, the wife he'd married in a desperate attempt to have the things he'd always wanted—an attempt to not feel so lonely, an attempt to be a husband and father, an attempt to play the hero. More than once now their conversation has drifted to a point when he could tell Claire, and each time he found himself steering it away, unable to find the right words and unwilling to spoil things between them.</p><p>All along he's known that there was no excuse, and even on his wedding day, he knew it. He stared at his own reflection, thinking of Claire and all that transpired at Cranesmuir. For so long he hated Laoghaire for what she'd done to Claire, but he'd convinced himself that she'd grown up since then. She'd been young and jaded, jealous and without a sense of real love felt like.</p><p>And when he thought of Claire at Castle Beaufort—how she and Laogharie worked together, how cordial they'd been toward one another, and how Claire had insisted he thank her—he wondered, if perhaps, Claire would give the union her blessing.</p><p>In his heart, he knew that was wrong; but, for a time, it was a lie he was willing to let himself believe if it would once more give his life a sense of meaning. After all, Claire was gone and the dreams they shared were merely that, and though he didn't see Laogharie as a replacement in those dreams, he knew that she needed him and so did her daughters. So, while their marriage was one forged by convenience instead of love, for a time, it gave him a sense of purpose.</p><p>But now, Claire was back.</p><p>And he felt like such a selfish, cowardly fool.</p><p>Pressing his eyes closed, he draws in a breath, instinctively holding Claire just a little tighter, praying that when he does finally tell her, it won't mean that he loses her all over again.</p><p>"Jamie," Claire murmurs, pulling herself up to look at him. "What's the matter?"</p><p>"Nothing, mo chridhe," he says, smiling as he reaches out and strokes the back of his fingers over her cheek, "I was just… thinking."</p><p>"About what?"</p><p>He swallows and again, pushes away the opportunity to confess. "Second chances."</p><p>Claire grins. "Oh?"</p><p>"I spent many years lamenting what I couldna 'ave, all that I lost when ye went through the stones," he tells her. "I missed out on being a husband and a father—"</p><p>"You were still those things even if Bree and I weren't here."</p><p>"Aye," he murmurs, his fingers tracing her jaw. "But it wasna the same."</p><p>"I know."</p><p>"I love my family—my sister, her bairns—but sometimes, it was hard to be near them."</p><p>"They were reminders of what you lost—"</p><p>"Aye—"</p><p>"I'm sor—"</p><p>"Dinna apologize," he says, cutting in and raising his voice over hers. "Please, dinna apologize, Sassenach." A soft smile edges across her lips and she nods. "It took me a long time to focus on what I do have and that was more than what some do."</p><p>"You were a husband and father though, even if you couldn't be with us," she says gently. "Even though I left, my heart stayed with you." Turning her head, she takes his hand and presses a kiss to his palm. "Besides, you had Fergus."</p><p>He grins and nods, the memory of Fergus' smile when he'd asked him to come to Edinburgh with him flickering. "Aye, and Young Ian for a couple of weeks every few months or so."</p><p>Claire laughs softly, shaking her head. "We have to return him, you know. He needs to go home."</p><p>Jamie sighs and nods, and despite what he'd said earlier that night, he knows she's right. He has no right to keep his nephew, and where Ian lives and what he does is not his choice—and truly, it's not yet Ian's choice either.</p><p>"Can I ask you something?" Claire asks, breaking the silence once more.</p><p>"Of course."</p><p>"What did you tell Jenny and Ian about me after Culloden?"</p><p>"That you were gone," he tells her. "I couldna bring myself to say that ye had died."</p><p>Claire nods and he feels her draw in a breath, her heartbeat going just a little faster. "I missed them—Jenny, especially. Whenever I'd cook or do laundry or do any of the things she and I used to do together, I'd think of her and miss her."</p><p>"She missed ye, too."</p><p>She hesitates for a moment, biting nervously at her lip as her eyes shift downward. "I… want to see her. I want to go back." She grins as he looks back to him. "Lallybroch was the only place that ever felt like home and—"</p><p>"Then we'll go."</p><p>A smile spreads across her lips, and though he's planned a busy day, he decides that it's nothing Fergus can't handle for him.</p><p>"When morning comes, we'll go home," he tells her, grinning as he considers that for the first time in twenty years, Claire's memory will no longer haunt him, and the happy memories they shared together at Lallybroch will be happy once more.</p><p>"It is morning," Claire says, glancing toward the window.</p><p>Jamie's gaze follows hers, and he nods, acknowledging the brightening sky. And suddenly, he no longer feels tired because for the first time in far too long, he won't have to brave another dawn without her.</p>
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